


Reset

by ObscureReference



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:33:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5614051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObscureReference/pseuds/ObscureReference
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You should go."</p><p>The words feel like acid rolling off his tongue; Derek doesn't know why he says them. His throat tightens the moment they leave his mouth, his heart swelling against the constricting confines of his chest. He thinks he may throw up."</p><p>Based on the prompt: "in every reincarnation we never admit our feelings and you’re always the one that got away"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reset

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt comes from the tumblr shittyaus.tumblr.com, most specifically from this post: http://shittyaus.tumblr.com /post/ 136205692544/ sorry-if-you-already-did-this-but-can-i-get-some (take out the spaces)
> 
> This is a little bit of a warm up since I haven't written in a while. I hope you like it anyway. I looked over it already but feel free to point out any mistakes if you see them.

"You should go."

The words feel like acid rolling off his tongue; Derek doesn't know why he says them. His throat tightens the moment they leave his mouth, his heart swelling against the constricting confines of his chest. He thinks he may throw up.

The West Coast is a long, long way away from Boston.

Will eyes him carefully, idly tapping one of his fingers on the handle of his cheap coffee mug. He hasn't taken a sip the whole time, even though he was the one who insisted on making coffee in the first place.

"You think so?" He asks, staring into the murky contents of the mug.

It's impossible for Derek to swallow.

"Yeah," he somehow manages to say. He leans over on the counter and hopes he appears casual. "I mean, if that's where the work is. You said your uncle is out there already, right?"

"Yeah," Will agrees.

Derek shrugs. "Then you should go. It's not like you have a lot holding you here."

It's a little rude but true. Will's family had all disappeared for one reason or another over the years, and what little family he had left had been scattered across the country. Derek can't help glancing around the dingy excuse for a cottage. The tin countertops, the cracked flooring, the leak in the roof Will had fixed about a hundred times in the past year. He can't imagine living here when winter rolls around.

It's only the third time Derek has been allowed remotely close to the place. The first time he's actually been inside.

Will works two jobs as both a mechanic and handy man just to keep the place. The Depression is a rough time, and Will has another streak of oil smeared against his cheek, right under his eye. It takes everything Derek has not to reach over and wipe the dirt away with the pad of his thumb.

Derek barely realizes there's been a beat of silence before Will adds another, "Yeah."

Derek blinks.

"You're right," Will says, straightening out of his slouch. He sounds surprised to be agreeing with Derek, and there's something else too. "Financially, it's probably the best decision I can make."

In truth, the best decision Will can make is coming to work for Derek. It's not like he doesn't have money to spare and he can always use another hand on the grounds. He could pay better than the other jobs Will has, no problem. But he knows Will would never accept such an offer, so Derek keeps the part of him that wants to offer bound and gagged, an iron weight in the pit of his stomach.

"So when would you leave?" Derek asks. "If you accept your uncle's offer."

Will doesn't look him in the eye. It's nothing new, but the look on his face is.

"Tomorrow, actually," Will says. "His business needs the help urgently, so if I decided not to come, he would have needed to hire someone else as soon as possible."

"Tomorrow," Derek echoes.

Will nods. "The first train out of Boston."

Instead of saying something more he'll regret, Derek lets his eyes burn.

"So you'll be going, then?"

"Why not?" Will shrugs. "Like you said, it's not like I have anything to lose here."

That's that. As far as goodbyes go, this one feels fairly cheap. Will walks him to the door, thanks him for his advice with more consideration than he'd ever given Derek in their five years of knowing each other, and sees him out.

Derek wants to take the words back, or at least hug him. Clap him on the shoulder, maybe. Say something encouraging.

He doesn't do any of those things.

They don't even shake hands. When Will closes the chipped door, he still has the oil on his cheek. Derek's hands ache.

He could afford a cab or a personal driver, but instead he walks two blocks until he finds a bus stop. He collapses on the bench and stares at the concrete below his feet.

 _You should go_ , he'd said.

What an idiot.

\----------

It's graduation. They've already walked. Nursey's moms are waiting outside, and he's looking around the Haus living room one last time. So is Dex, and they're having one of those awkward staring contests that Nursey always wins even though neither of them know where to go from there.

It's Dex who steps forward and brings him into an awkward hug, surprisingly. He claps Nursey on the back once, twice, before pulling away, face red. Nursey can't help but grin.

"So you finally admit you care about me," he says, heavier than he intends.

Dex takes a deep breath. His mouth opens, but when nothing comes out, he closes it again.

"And I've made you speechless too," Nursey teases.

Dex sighs, shaking his head. Something shifts.

"Get the hell out of here," Dex says, hands in his pockets, all bluster and no bite. "Don't you have a job or something?"

Nursey smirks. "Self-employment has it's perks. When you write, you get to decide your own hours."

Dex rolls his eyes.

"Try not to end up working at McDonalds."

"Would you visit me if I did?"

Dex shakes his head. His hair doesn't fall into his eyes because he would never let it grow long enough, but Nursey would like to brush it back if it did.

"Get out of here already," Dex says. "I've seen you for four years now. I'm sick of you."

It's a joke, Nursey knows. One he'd laugh at if he wasn't feeling a little sick already. He flashes Dex a smile and hopes it doesn't look as shaky as it feels.

"I'll be seeing you," he says, even though it's a lie.

"See ya."

They go.

\----------

In the morning, he'll have to leave. In the morning, he'll be moving cities and school districts and leaving everything else behind.

But it's still dark out yet, will be for hours, and for now Derek has this.

They're in the field behind Will's house, the field that would probably be filled with snakes if it wasn't so cold out. He had been pretty amazed that Will had actually snuck out for him when he'd begged, but now all he can think about is how bright Will's hair is even in the dark. He hadn't even given Will a reason, and he'd come. The thought makes Derek's chest swell.

Will had fallen asleep hours ago. He hadn't been tucked under Derek's arm then, but he'd dozed and dozed until he'd finally given out to exhaustion against the old pear tree. Derek had snuck closer then, inch by inch, until he could wrap his arm around Will's shoulders without waking him. He's warm, despite the cool night. Derek wants to close his eyes too, but he doesn't want to forget the way Will's freckles stand out in the moonlight.

Derek is fifteen and these things are too big for him. He can't hold it all inside him, he can't articulate the thing that curls around his heart and slithers between his lungs in moments like this. He's filled up pages and pages of notebooks trying to name it, and he simply can't. If he can't even do that, then he certainly can't say _goodbye_. Not when he can't even name the feeling yet.

Derek has said goodbye before. He's said it to classmates before summer break and friends of his parents when they leave after dinner parties. He's never had a goodbye like this. He can't wrap his tongue around it.

In the morning, he'll be gone, and Will won't even know why. Derek knows he won't, because he can't tell him. He's already decided. He knows himself, and he knows he'd never manage it, so he just won't. He can't.

He kind of wants to cry a little, but he also feels all dried upside. It's so conflicting he wants to scream.

Their parents might yell at them if they stay out for much longer, but Derek can't bring himself to wake Will up. He can't bring himself to tear his gaze away from the rise and fall of Will's chest, of the way his eyelashes lay against his cheeks. He can't bring himself to do _anything_.

Derek almost wants to write a poem about this moment, but without even trying he doesn't think he could ever get it right. Not now, at least. Maybe he'll try again when he's older, when he's wiser and he can name the thing in his chest. When he has the strength to say goodbye.

\----------

He's not expecting anybody to be waiting in his cubicle when he rounds the corner. He's definitely not expecting them to be hunched over the shitty writing he'd scrawled in the margins of the papers left out on his desk. And he's certainly not expecting it to be Poindexter.

Derek freezes like a deer in the headlights. Then he clears his throat.

"I don't usually give people sneak previews," he says, as cool as he can manage while it feels like his skin is bubbling. He's overexposed.

Poindexter jumps and spins around. A few of the papers flutter to the floor. Derek makes sure to grab them before Poindexter can even react. He shoves them in his pocket and tries not to think about the words burning a hole in his pants.

"Sorry," Poindexter says, and it sounds like he means it. "I was just... They were lying out and I didn't— I'm sorry."

Derek forces himself to shrug. He looks away. "It's cool. I was the one who left them out. It's just garbage anyway."

A long, drawn out silence stretches between them. Derek's fingers itch.

"I'm sorry," Poindexter blurts out suddenly. He looks embarrassed.

"Yeah, you said that already," Derek says dryly. He needs a cigarette.

"No, I meant..." Poindexter bites his lip. "In the poems. It sounds like you really like that person who doesn't like you back. So. I'm sorry."

Derek closes his eyes. Slowly. When he opens them again, he stares at the wall behind Poindexter's head.

He really, really needs a cigarette.

"It's fine," he says again. "It's not your problem, so don't worry about it."

"I know." Poindexter shifts his weight, staring at his shoes. "It's just—"

"Chill," Derek interrupts. "Forget about it."

Poindexter looks at him for a long moment before he stiffly nods. "Got it."

The air between them feels tenser than even when they fight. A different kind of tension, Derek figures, even though he can't name what. He takes a long breath through his nose.

"So what'd you come here for?" He asks.

"What?" Poindexter starts. Then, "Oh, yeah. Oluransi wants to see you. Said it was important."

Of course. William Poindexter would never visit him willingly.

Derek nods, slapping on a smile. "Got it."

He makes sure to place the papers back in the drawers where they belong. If he feels Poindexter's eyes on his back as he does, neither of them mention it.

\----------

There is another boy in Derek's kindergarten class and Derek really likes it when he shows up. His hair is bright and his freckles are different and he makes funny faces when Derek gets close. He likes the boy a lot.

Except the boy didn't show up yesterday. Or the day before that. Derek can't remember the last time he saw the boy, which basically means  he's been gone for forever.

Derek is five. He doesn't understand what the adults say when they whisper to each other when they think he's not looking. He doesn't know where the boy is. He doesn't know anything.  One time Derek stepped in an ant pile on accident and they crawled all over his skin and it _hurt_. This feels a lot like that.

He does what he did when he stepped in the ants. He cries.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is http://someobscurereference.tumblr.com/ . Hit me up there for whatever reason. Sometimes I post stuff there that I don't post here, under the "my fic" tag.


End file.
